Chapter 24 Stage 7

• The jet landed just after dusk on a private strip outside Marseille with no lights, no greeting. Just the scrape of wheels across forgotten asphalt.
• Penelope slipped down the steps first, coat caught in the wind, eyes already scanning for anything that looked like surveillance.
• “Coordinates line up with the coast,” she muttered, half to herself, half to Dorian. “Old wine estate, burned out in the '80s. Public records show it was condemned.”